


Shake Your Foundations

by cadmiumGore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Episode: s05e04 The End, Supernatural AU: Croatoan/End'verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 13:44:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadmiumGore/pseuds/cadmiumGore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened in the five years between Sam and Dean's last conversation and their final confrontation. (season 5, episode 4, The End)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Baby, Please Don't Go

The last words he'd said to his brother had been pleading; he had been begging for his brother to stop. 

“Dean, don’t do this.” 

What his brother had just said, that they should stay apart; it was not what he had wanted or expected to hear. He’d called Dean because he was the only one who could possibly understand what Sam was dealing with. Dean knew all about being the true vessel of an angel, after all. He’d expected rage; at Sam or the angels, or concern, or even fear, but the tired, weary response he received shocked him to the core. 

“We’re not stronger when we’re together- I think we’re weaker. Because what we have- love, family, whatever it is- they are always going to use it against us. We’re better off apart.” 

Why would Dean say something like that? This was why Sam had been begging with him. Don’t take away the last, the only, good thing he had. He couldn't bear to lose Dean too. But the “Bye Sam.” he received, the last words Dean ever said to his little brother, shattered him. So he closed his phone and drove, vision blurry with tears. What could he possibly do now? Even Dean had given up on him, considered him past saving. As he drove, Dean’s words echoed in his mind, like a sick mantra. Weeks later, still the only thing he could think about was their conversation. So when Lucifer eventually appeared to him, Sam was worn to the bone and utterly too tired to deal with the phantom. 

“Hello Sam.”

His voice is soft and slow, as if he knew what happened between Sam and Dean. It had been two weeks ago that Dean had told Sam goodbye. Two weeks that Sam had been stewing in his own dark thoughts, hopping from town to town in stolen cars with stolen names. 

“What do you want? Wait, don’t answer that. I know what you want and you know what my answer is.”

Sam sighed and reached over the table where he was sitting, wrenching the last of the cheap beers from its thin plastic noose. He cracked open the lukewarm beverage and downed about half of it. He was, Sam decided, way too sober to converse with the devil.

“I heard about you and Dean. How he decided you’d be safer apart. And I’m just here to say how sorry I am.” The fallen angel stood from the bed where he’d been sitting and joined Sam at the table. 

“I don’t need your sympathy!” Sam spat, feeling his ever present anger float closer to the surface. He glared up at the ghost of a man. It was odd. He could see the vessel perfectly, but Lucifer’s eyes never seemed to actually focus on Sam; instead they gazed like they could see through him. It was disconcerting, but it reassured the Winchester that the devil had no idea where he was.

“Well, I know what it’s like to be betrayed by your family, to be rejected by your brother. I understand your pain, Sammy.” His voice was soft, almost soothing. It would have been easy to forget he was Satan, easy to trust him. Until Sam looked at his eyes, cold and devoid of all the emotion his voice had. “But I wanted to tell you again that I would never hurt you like that. I will never harm you Sam, or lie to you, or try to change you. I’ll never give up on you.”

If only it had been Dean speaking those words, his brothers voice whispering promises to Sam in the dead of night. “And why should I trust you?” He inquired yet again, with a roll of his eyes. “You are Lucifer, the Father of lies.”

“And you are my vessel Sam. I wouldn't lie to you. I need you to trust me in order for this, for us to work.” He smiled then, a secret, knowing smile that chilled Sam to his very marrow. “And oh, how we will work, when you finally give in.” With a secret smile and a wink, Sam was left all alone with his other demons. Shakily he downed the rest of beer, hoping to calm his nerves. He reached for his phone without thinking, cycling through the contacts and pausing on the letter D. Dean didn't need more than that, anything else was too complicated. Sam clutched the phone like a lifeline, and he felt like he was at a turning point. Whatever he did now would mold his entire life, and it terrified him. The Winchester finally remembered to breathe, releasing the air he’d been unconsciously holding in, and the feeling passed. He quickly closed his phone with a shake of his head, chastising himself. Dean was done with him. He had to learn to live without his big brother now.


	2. If You Want Blood (You've Got It)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some violence I guess. Not exactly sure how to tag this stuff, sorry.

Bobby broke everything and everyone he touched. Dean was always left behind, never needed by others the way he needed them. And Sam was simply evil. He’d come to accept it. The Winchester’s last conversation had been a few months ago. He’d stopped counting the days, he’d stopped caring about it at all. The last good part of his life had abandoned him for good, so why should he care, what was the point anymore? Sam had tried lying low for a while, changing scenes and looking for everyday work in an attempt to be normal. Pretending the world wasn't about to end. But other hunters always tracked him down. Usually either to kill him, as if that could stop the apocalypse, or to use him as a weapon against the demons. Either way, Sam was the only one who ever walked away. At first he’d tried talking his way out, then running. But he could only be a pacifist for so long, especially with the apocalypse looming. With time he learned to tell who the hunters were as soon as they started following him, and he always made sure they wouldn't be coming after him again. After a particularly bad scuffle in an alley in New York, Sam drove away from his motel in the dead of night and made another choice; it was time for him to stop hiding. 

He set out with the good intentions of a demon massacre, but soon realized that was impossible, since Dean still had Ruby’s knife. Without preparations like devils traps and holy water, he was defenseless against even the lowest of demons. Well, not defenseless, per se. But he had promised Dean… Sam scowled and bitterly remembered that Dean had already given up on him. Why did he owe his brother anything anymore? Sam knew that it was wrong, unnatural, but he couldn't make himself care. Who was here to stop him? Dean had walked out of his life and he hadn't seen or heard from Bobby or Castiel since then either. So Sam made a decision and went out to bag himself a demon. 

He found one easily enough; he could practically smell the demons blood, and with the apocalypse in the works demons were practically on every street corner. The old hunger he had denied for so long reared its head expectantly at the scent. Sam hung back and followed the man, waiting for an opportunity. But he was quickly losing his patience, not wanting to think himself out of his decision or lose his nerve. Plus, ever since he chose to give in, his cravings had begun to drive him insane, like an itch he couldn't scratch coupled with minor hallucinations. So when the demon went down an empty side street, he nervously approached from behind and shoved a burlap bag over the demon’s head, demon traps and other anti-demon sigils covering the bag. Without thinking, he bashed the man’s head in with the butt of his rifle and dragged him to his car waiting nearby, stuffing him into the trunk. His face split, for the first time since the conversation with his brother, into a full fledged grin.

Back at the vacant house he had claimed, Sam paced in front of the captured demon. His lips were chapped, but he kept running his tongue over them, whether from nerves or desire, he couldn't exactly tell. Sam’s money had run out a month ago, wasted on cheap motels and even cheaper booze. So he stuck to empty houses now, and only ate when he remembered he needed to. He had changed so much in the past months -since he’d freed Lucifer and started the apocalypse- that Sam hated even catching a glimpse of his own reflection. Sunken, haunted eyes and gaunt cheeks, he couldn't help but wonder at how he’d become this way. -Dean, Sam was so broken because Dean had given up on him- His thoughts were interrupted by a muffled groan. His prisoner was awake. Eagerly, Sam wrenched the bag from the monster’s head and threw it across the room. He would only need it this once, until he was strong again. The man looked completely confused until his eyes focused on Sam, and his mouth twisted into an amused smirk. 

“Hey there, Sammy-“A growl ripped its way out of Sam’s chest, breaking the demon’s train of thought.

“It’s Sam, you bottom feeding scumbag. And I didn't bring you here to talk.” Sam was pacing more intently now, fingers clutching the silver dagger tightly. He was hungrily focused on the throbbing of the man’s neck, the scent of his blood so delicious to Sam.

“Oh thaaats right, you just brought me here to suck my blood.” The demon sighed and rolled its eyes. “I thought you’d dropped that little habit Sam. It's bad for you, y'know.” He glared at the demon but kept pacing, inching closer and closer to his prey. “Well, if that’s your plan, why am I still breathing?”

“Because, demon, this is much more satisfying when you’re conscious.” With an indecision-laced grin, Sam took a step closer to the captive. –Ruby had taught him this, how to be strong– With shaking hands, he took the demons hand into his own. Tenderly, he flipped it over, exposing the wrist. The hunter was mesmerized by the fluttering of his pulse, once again dancing on the razors edge. And the Winchester leapt off it spectacularly. Like a man dying of thirst, Sam drained every drop of blood from the body, serenaded by pained screams through the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, second chapter! Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Critiques are welcome (even encouraged)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fan fiction, and not to sound like a broken record, but if you could leave reviews or opinions on my work, that would be awesome. Thanks for even reading this, and I hoped you liked it.


End file.
